"By Jenkins! just imagine the blaze and the scorch if this forest caught afire like your reeds."
"Couldn't—too damp. We've been tramping for two hours, and I have not seen a bird, or an animal, or a reptile; nothing but snails and ants. Don't see where the game comes in."
"We're not after game; we're after cannibals."
"By Jove! yes, I suppose we are—that is, if they are cannibals. I thought the species had died out."
"It will be a long time before cannibalism dies out," said Mr. Hume, who was bringing up the rear, "particularly in those parts where the people find a difficulty in getting flesh-food; but, at the same time, scarcity of flesh-food does not always turn a tribe to cannibalism. What does happen is this—that people who live in a poor district become small In the Kalihari you find the bushmen, in the forest you find the pigmies."
"Then the forest is poor in animals?"
"It has its types, but I should say they must be very few. You see, animals want sun, And where would they find it here? No! what animals haunt the forest will not be found on the ground."
"I see," said Compton, with a grin; "they fly."
"I know," interposed Venning, triumphantly; "they live in the tree- tops."
Compton looked up at the matted roof of leaves and branches.
"Well, all I hope is that a tall giraffe will not fall through on top of me."
"There is one thing that should give you comfort," said Venning, solemnly.
"What is that?"
"It would be the giraffe who would suffer."
"Wait till I have got rid of these parcels, young 'un," said
Compton. "Are you getting tired?"
"Well, I am," said Venning—"tired and stuffy."
"Glad to be back on the boat again—eh? Well, if it's any comfort to you, I'm tired too. Haven't got my land-legs yet."
Mr. Hume cried a halt, to their great content, and though there were some hours yet to evening, he set them to work to make the camp. The work was the same they undertook each evening they were in the forest. First they cleared a circle about twenty feet in diameter, with an outer ring of large trees, and, using the trunks as posts, built a fence with the saplings and young trees. A hole was dug in the soft ground for the fireplace, and another fence built round to screen the glare of the fire. Next their waterproof sheets were arranged, the sheet of canvas stretched overhead, and, when all was shipshape, the three white members of the party went through a course of massage, which prepared them for the one good meal of the day. Then they overhauled their clothing, repaired any tears, oiled the rifles, and entered up the log-books. There was always something to do, and according to the man-of-war discipline observed, every man had to do his share of work—a rule which gave the mind employment, and kept it from dwelling on the monotony and the depressing silence of the woods. While the camp was springing into existence out of the tangled woods, the jackal kept guard, circling at a distance, like a well-trained collie herding a flock of sheep.
The first night was a repetition of many others. When the night came down, as it did long before darkness set in on the wide river, where the afterglow was reflected from the waters, it was black beyond thought, so black that a few yards from the fire the sharpest pair of eyes could not see a hand held a foot away. And with the darkness came a sense of mystery, a hollow murmur as of the surf heard a long way off, which intensified the brooding stillness; and at times the groaning of the trees.
"What noise is that?" asked Venning, hearing the sound.
"The trees talk," said Muata, gravely.
"Eh? The trees talk! Wonderful!" muttered Compton, sarcastically; but, nevertheless, he listened with open mouth and staring eyes.
"What do they say, chief?"
"The young ones ask for room; they shove and push to reach up into the air, to feel the touch of the rain, to enjoy the warmth of the sun."
"And the big trees?"
"They cry out against the young, who come thrusting their branches up from below, who crowd in upon the old people."
"And the squeaking noise?"
"That is made by one branch rubbing against another. Wow! It is nothing. Hear them talk when a wind is blowing; then it is as if all the great ones were gathered together roaring to the four comers, with the voice of the storm booming from the skies, and the bellowing of a great herd of bulls, and in between the cries of women in fear and the screaming of tigers. Mawoh! It is then a man would hide in a hole. Now it is quiet; they but whisper among themselves half asleep, but in the morning they will stretch their limbs."
"Of course," said Compton, "and yawn!"
"How will a tree grow if it does not stretch? It bends this way and that, to loosen the bark, to make its body and its arms supple and tough, so that it can bend to the blast and yet spring back straight again. Tell me what would happen if the young tree were bark-bound. It would die—as these old ones die smothered by the creeping arms around them. Ow aye, they stretch in the morning and grow."
So they talked in the night, and listened to the strange sounds that came mysteriously out of the brooding silence.
CHAPTER XIII
THE TREE-LION
The next day they came to the end of the trail that Muata had followed with the river-man; but the scent was still on the ground, and for a mile or so the jackal led the way, slinking along like a shadow with his nose down and his bushy tail drooping. Then he stopped, and, after a look up into the face of his master, stretched himself out, as much as to say his part was over.
"They have gained on us," said Mr. Hume.
"They rose early and travelled fast," said Muata. "The scent is cold, but there is the trail marked on the tree;" and he pointed to a slight cut in the bark, from which had oozed a thick juice, now caked hard.
"Some one pierced the bark."
"It is the sign of the wise woman, and she made it, maybe, with a wire from her armlets."
They went on more slowly, guided only by the faint cuts at intervals on tree-trunks, all of which "bled," giving out a milky sap; and then again the sign failed. About them were the trees in endless columns, overhead was the roof of leaves, and on the ground was a tangle of undergrowth and decaying vegetation, that gave out a moist earthy smell, which set the lungs labouring for oxygen. The boys were uncomfortable. Their skins were clammy, their eyes were heavy, and their limbs languid. Mr. Hume was glad to sit down, and even Muata showed the effect of the muggy atmosphere in a dulling of his skin. The river-man, sullen and silent, was alone apparently unaffected; but they did not reckon him one of the party, for no one of them had broken through his apathy.
Muata began patiently to make casts in that labyrinth that seemed to hold no living thing but themselves, and as he went slowly through the undergrowth, the boys went off to sleep, from which they awoke, heavy and unrefreshed, at the cry to "fall in."
The trail had been recovered fifty yards further on, the intervening ground having been covered apparently by the cannibals without leaving a sign. Venning blundered on a little way before he discovered that he had left his bundle behind.
"I'll wait for you," said Compton, sitting down on a tree-stump, while Mr. Hume, who had left his position in the rear to consult with Muata, had his back turned.
Venning recovered his bundle, and turned to retrace his steps, but for the time his heavy eyes were no longer faithful guides, and, instead of taking the right direction, he entered a likely looking opening through the trees to the left and hurried on. When he had covered a distance that should have brought him to Compton, he stopped.
"Halloa! halloa!" he cried.
There was no answer.
"Compton! I say, no larks. Where are you?"
A little in advance he heard the rustle of leaves, and went on quickly. When he reached the place where the sound came from there was nothing there, and he gathered his wits together. With a little laugh at his carelessness, he began to retrace his steps, but there was a problem to be dealt with at every step, for he could see nothing familiar. In that multitude of trees, planted so close together, each tree seemed alike. He put his hand to his mouth and uttered a long "coo-ee." The call seemed to be shut in, sounding in his ears very weak and quavering.
"Coo-ee!"—and again "coo-ee!" Ah, that was an answer; and with a glad shout he set off in the direction whence came an answer to his call, forced his way through the undergrowth, tripped and fell over a dead branch with a thud that made his head throb so that he was glad to sit back with closed eyes.
When he opened them again he heard a rustling of the leaves, and moved his lips to call out. "Compton!"
There was unmistakably the sound of some one jumping aside as if startled.
"Over here!" said Venning; and then he closed his eyes again with a feeling of languor. Compton, in the meanwhile growing impatient, walked a few steps in the direction his chum had taken. The rest of the party had moved on, thinking, no doubt, he was following, and he knew that neither he nor Venning could pick up the spoor if they lost touch. He peered through the scrub for some time without seeing any one, and then he heard a low cry—a strangled sort of cry, as if Venning were calling in a very feeble voice. Unshipping his Lee- Metford carbine from the loop, by which it hung at his side, he dashed forward, fully expecting to find his friend in the hands of man or beast.
But at the last stopping-place there was no sign of his friend; and, with head bent, he listened for some sound, his mouth firmly set, and his dark eyes glancing from under his well-marked, brows.
He could hear the beating of his heart, and the innumerable creeping sounds that seemed to have no origin. He was about to shout, when again he heard a thin cry, and, suppressing the shout, he began to advance cautiously from tree to tree, planting his steps carefully. In the soft mould he saw now the footmarks left by Venning as he had hurried, the print of his heel at one spot, a little further on a broken branch, and next, some dislodged moss from a huge tree. He peered round this, examining the ground ahead, then stepped out into a little clearing, across which Venning had walked. He started as he looked down, then threw up his gun, with a quick glance round, for on the ground, side by side with the footprints, were the pugs of a lion or leopard.
Venning was in danger, then! With an involuntary action he pressed his hat down firmly on his head, then moved forward, swiftly and silently, to another tree beyond. Looking round this, he saw at once through the twining tendrils the form of an animal, moving slowly, with flattened ears and twitching tail.
This did not surprise him, for he was prepared by the spoor; but what surprised him was to see that the brute was advancing towards him—not retreating. For a moment he felt sick at the thought that he was too late, that his friend had been already attacked, and that the beast had left Venning for the new-comer.
The brute was unmistakably stalking some one. Its body was stretched out, the forearms reaching out in long stealthy strides, the round head sunk low, with a fixed snarl that bared the white teeth. A leopard it was in form, but without the black rosettes on a grey ground, the colour being of a uniform yellow along the sides, with black markings down the muscular shoulders, and a streak of white from the throat under the belly. The eyes were large, and of a greenish hue. They were fixed in a steadfast stare on some spot to the left. Compton glanced in that direction, and, to his joy, he saw Venning, alive, seated with his chin on his breast, and his back to a fallen stump. As Compton looked, the boy's eyes opened, and his head turned as if he had heard some noise.
Compton's distress left him. A feeling of great thankfulness swept over him when he saw that he was not too late, that his friend lived; and with firm nerves he stepped clear of the tree to shoot. The movement caught the notice of the leopard. It had crouched down as Venning turned, but now it lifted its round head to view the new- comer. With a low growl it made a sudden leap forward, covering an incredible distance, which brought it nearer to Compton, and as it gathered itself together he fired, then sprang aside. There was a rush through the air, a thud, and a tearing noise. There, almost within reach of him, with the blood running over its face from a scalp-wound, and its fore-paws tearing the moss from a tree, was the leopard; and, swift as thought, Compton fired from his hip at the shoulder. The leopard rolled over, growling, then tried to drag itself by its powerful paws towards Compton, its mouth wide open. He fired again, into the gaping jaws, the muscles relaxed, the beast fell, and he ran towards Venning.
"Are you all right, old chap?"
Venning held on to his friend's arm, and as they stood, the leopard screamed.
"He is quite done, old fellow. Come and see."
Venning went forward quietly, as if still in a daze, and they looked down on the leopard, struggling in the death-throes. It raised its torn head, and again the scream rang out from its red jaws—a terrible cry, and out of the forest came the answer, shrill and fearsome. With a low growl the leopard fell forward, dead; but they could hear an animal advancing rapidly, with fierce grunts; though from what direction it was impossible to tell.
"It must be the mate," said Compton, with an anxious look at
Venning. "How do you feel?"
"I'm all right now;" and he passed his hand over his forehead. "I can help you this time. If it is the mate, it will go first to its dead."
"Then we'd better crouch down by that tree."
They knelt side by side a little way off, with their rifles ready; but, though the noise made by the advancing animal grew louder, they could see no movement whatever.
Then an extraordinary thing occurred. A bough above shook heavily, and a large flattened body shot down from one branch to another, tail, neck, and legs at the full stretch, alighting easily on the rounded branch. It paused for a moment, then flew right across from one tree to another, a distance of about thirty feet, when again it gathered itself together for another flying leap to the ground, alighting with singular ease within a few paces of the spot where the dead leopard was lying.
With outstretched neck and twitching nose, it stepped to its mate, sniffed, then threw its head up with bristling hair and emitted a terrible scream of rage, ending in a harsh cough.
As Compton pressed the trigger it bounded aside, as if it had seen him, and an instant later had reached the trunk of a tree.
"Where is it?"
"Went up that tree," said Venning, rising and stretching his neck.
"You take that side, I this."
They moved slowly, finger on trigger and eyes swiftly scanning the branches, but they made the circuit of the tree without a glimpse of the yellow and black body that had so swiftly come and gone.
"Where the dickens has it gone?"
"Maybe into a hole up there."
They stood staring up in bewilderment, but there was not a movement anywhere, and presently they wandered around examining the trees near. The beast had vanished as completely as if it had been no bigger than a fly.
"Well," said Compton, with a short laugh, "I'm going to take the skin off the dead one, before it disappears too."
They set to work stripping the skin off the muscular body, stopping often to listen and glance around. The work, however, was completed in peace, and then, suddenly remembering their position, they hastened to retrace their steps. Slowly they hit off the trail, and finally arrived as far as the place where Venning had first missed his bundle.
"It's after us, Dick!"—in a whisper.
"Where?"
"Up among the branches. I saw it spring across as I looked back."
They looked up into the trees, and then at the dark shadows before them, for the afternoon was slipping away.
"I don't like it. The beggar may spring on us at any moment."
"Or it may wait bill it is too dark for us to see."
"Yes, by Jove!"
"It is bad; but I am afraid we do not know the worst."
"What do you mean?"
"Mr. Hume must have missed us a long time back; and he would have come after us if——"
"I see," said Compton, gravely. "You think that something has happened to them?"
Venning nodded. "It's all my fault, Dick."
Compton was glancing up into the trees. "We must dispose of that brute first. But how?"
"I have an idea," said Venning, after a long pause. "One of us will go on. Animals can't count. Seeing one of us moving, he may show himself to the other, who remains hidden."
"Good. I will go on;" and at once Compton, taking the more dangerous post, advanced slowly, leaving Venning standing against a tree.
A few moments later the watcher saw a dark form flitting through the branches high up, without, however, offering a ghost of a mark, and there was nothing left for him but to follow Compton and explain.
"And I suppose it's watching us now?" said the latter, gloomily.
"Any good to climb up a tree?"
"I should think not. Why, it's at home up there. You can see that from the length of the claws, and the length of the tail, which acts as a steerer, a balancing-pole, and a brake. You see when it brings the tail down—-?"
"No, I don't; but I do see that we are in a fix, and that the others must be in a worse position."
"I cannot imagine Mr. Hume being caught in a trap, especially when he has the jackal."
"And Muata!"
"And the black chap!"
"By Jove! suppose that fellow has proved treacherous;" and the two turned this unpleasant thought over in their minds until a light sound attracted their notice. Looking up, they caught the glare of fierce green eyes.
"We've got him now!" yelled Compton. "Round that side."
Venning dashed round the tree, and three shots were fired in rapid succession at a vanishing object.
"Missed again!"
"By gum, yes; and if we go on playing hide-and-seek any longer, we'll be missing ourselves. We've got to build a camp at once. That's the place, between those three trees. I'll cut, and you build."
Compton, rolling up his sleeves, cut down saplings, and Venning built a low roof, using the long tendrils of the creepers to bind it. Then the spaces in between the trunks were filled in, and large chunks of tinder were cut out of a fallen tree and placed at the entrance, a fire of dry wood being made in a hole inside. There was enough water in their flasks for a "billy" of tea, and by the time they had finished their meal the darkness was on them. No sooner had they settled down to watch than their foe was down, sniffing out the position, and they were thankful they had acted in time. They beard it at the back first, then overhead, and next at the side, its presence indicated by low growls. Then it was in the front, and Compton fired at a momentary gleam of two luminous spots. It bounded right on the roof, which shook to its weight, then clawed up a tree, detaching fragments of moss, and again leapt to the ground, emitting this time a ferocious roar. It seemed as if its long patience were exhausted, and that it was lashing itself into a fury, for it was here and there with lightning quickness, striking blows at the fence, and at times seizing a branch in its teeth, but so quick that they could not move their weapons smartly enough to cover the point of attack.
It was nervous work for the watchers. Every moment they expected to find themselves under the claws and teeth of the maddened beast, with the odds all against them, for in such a small enclosure they would be helpless. It was bad enough when the brute was emitting his terrible roars and screams, but the spells of silence were worse.
In one of these spells Venning felt for the raw skin of the slaughtered leopard, and threw it out into the darkness. There were stealthy footsteps, the noise of sniffing, followed by the sound of an animal rolling on the ground, and they fired together. With a snarl the leopard bounded right to the very mouth of the opening, knocking over the smouldering tinder and sending out a shower of sparks. Venning fired. Compton lunged forward with his big knife, and the leopard leapt aside.
"Hit him that time, I bet," muttered Venning, who was shaking with excitement.
Then followed a weary time of waiting in complete silence, broken only by the soft melancholy murmur of the forest. They refilled the magazines of their carbines, built up the tinder fire, and stretched their ears to catch the first warning note of danger. Then the whisperings swarmed in upon them. A creak of a branch, the turn of a leaf, the scraping of creeping insects, the whizzing of moths, and the murmur of the forest, all seemed to them the whisperings of stealthy foes. Every now and again they moistened their lips, which dried after the repeated spells during which they held their breath, while intently listening for the footfalls of the enemy.
Then, with a feeling of relief, they heard an unmistakable wouf! That, at least, was a tangible sound—the sound of a startled animal.
Presently they heard its footsteps, as it came cautiously forward, a little way at a time. Once more the fingers coiled round the triggers, and the barrels were raised.
Then came a yelp, this time of fear, followed by the leopard's terrible scream. Some animal darted by the opening, so close that they could see the gleam of its eyes as it glanced in upon them, and after it with a bound went a larger form. They listened to the dwindling noise of the chase, and Compton stirred up the fire.
"What's up now, eh?"
"It," said Venning, referring to the leopard, "is after something, don't you think?"
"I hope to goodness it will have a good run, then."
But even as he spoke the sound of the chase grew; the smaller animal flashed by again with the savage pursuer at its heels, flew round the trees, and leapt inside—leapt in and pressed itself down behind the two of them. With a snarl, the leopard stopped before the smouldering logs, and then sprang on to the roof, at which it struck two or three tremendous blows before bounding off again.
"Where's my knife?" yelled Compton.
Venning felt a warm tongue on his hand, and drew it away with a cry, as if he had been stung.
"Use your knife, man. I'm blinded."
"All right," gasped Venning.
"Feel for it first, or you'll be hitting me. Quick! I say."
"What is it?" cried Venning, alarmed at the sudden change in
Compton's tones from rage to alarm.
"Something's pulling me. It's got its arm through the side."
There was a sudden fierce yap and a snapping of jaws. Compton's shirt gave way with a tear, and outside in the dark the leopard screamed. Inside the cry was answered by the howl of a jackal.
"It's our jackal," shouted Venning.
"Where—what?"
"Here;" and Venning laughed hysterically. "Poor old chap!" then,
"Good old jacky!"
"Nonsense!" said Compton; but his band groped out in the dark, and when he felt the rough tongue, he joined in the laugh. They were as pleased as if Mr. Hums or Muata had returned.
"Did the brute really hook you?"
"Forced his paw through," said Compton, shuddering, "but the jackal bit him."
The jackal's tail thumped the ground, then they felt it stiffen, and were again on the alert. Venning ran his fingers lightly along the jackal's back till he reached the nose, which was pointing straight up. Without a moment's delay he raised his rifle and fired.
At the same moment the saplings forming the roof snapped and fell in upon them with an added weight, which knocked them flat. They were dimly conscious of a tremendous struggle, but when they had crawled out of the litter, they were thankful to find that each was still alive. After the first hurried words, they faced the darkness apprehensively, for their shelter was gone, and their rifles were under the branches.
"Quick!" said Compton, "help pull the branches away."
Guided by the tinder, they felt for the branches and pulled, but let go at once and fell back, for a fierce growl greeted them almost in their faces.
"By Jove!" muttered Compton, "it's all over now. Don't run; let us stick together."
"I'm not running," said Venning. "We've got our sheath-knives."
They drew their knives, and, holding each other by the disengaged hand, fell back step by step, till they found the support of a tree- trunk, when they waited for the attack. From time to time the low growls gave warning of the enemy's close presence, and to them each sound was as a death-knell; for what were their knives against a foe so powerful, who had, too, the advantage of sight?
For perhaps two hours of awful suspense they stood, and then Compton lost patience.
"I can't stand this," he said. "That brute's playing with us, and
I'm going to finish it."
"Wait; when the morning comes we can see."
"Will it ever come? No."
Compton struck a match, cradled it in his hand till it caught, then, with his face showing rigid by the reflection, he moved forward. Venning went too, shoulder to shoulder. Each held his knife, point up, every muscle on the strain. A snarl greeted each step, and presently they saw two glowing spots before the match went out. Another match was struck by a steady hand, and this time the spots blazed out from the blackness.
Venning felt for his log-book, tore out a sheet, screwed it up, lit it, and held the flame up.
There, less than six feet away, was the leopard, its mouth open, the gleaming fangs showing their full length—a sight so forbidding that he dropped the paper and sprang back.
"Light another," said Compton, steadily.
This was done. He went down on his knees, reached out, seized the butt of a rifle, and drew it forth. A second later a bullet crashed into the brain of the leopard, and then, worn out by the strain they had been under so long, they sat with their backs to the trees.
"I'm going to sleep," said Compton.
"I wonder what's become of the jackal?" muttered Venning, drawing up his knees with a sigh of relief.
"Don't know, and don't care, for he's better off than we are. Good night."
"Good night, old chap; and it was awfully good of you to turn back."
Snore! Venning yawned, and in five minutes they were both asleep in the forest, without so much as a twig to cover them. But they were not altogether unprotected, for when they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes in the morning, they found the jackal curled up at their feet, with one ear cocked and one eye open. But a very different jackal he was from the graceful animal they knew so well. His body was distended to enormous proportions, and it was clear how his absence was to be accounted for. While they had stood in the dark, expecting every moment to be pounced upon, he had been gorging on the dead leopard. They now looked at their foe of the night, and found why it was that it had left them uninjured. There were three wounds on the body—the bullet-hole in the forehead, a fleshy wound on the hind leg, and a hit on the spine, which had disabled it just as it was in the act of springing down upon the roof.
"It's your bag," said Compton. "To think that we stood shivering and shaking for two mortal hours, while all the time the beggar was helpless!"
Venning did not echo the complaint; he was too much occupied examining his prize, and taking exact measurements with a tape, which he entered in his log' book, together with a description of the markings.
"It's a new species," he said, with the pride of an explorer who discovers a new mountain. "I will call it a tree-lion—leo arboriensis Venningii—that is, if you don't wish it called after you."
"Call it anything you like, old fellow; but I should say it was just an ordinary leopard."
"You never saw a leopard with those markings."
"And no one ever saw a climbing lion."
"It has adapted itself to changed conditions. The markings match the colouring of the branches, and there has been a change in the formation of the claws"—holding up a huge paw—"while the forearm is a little curved, and the skin between the elbow and the body bears a resemblance in its growth to that found on the so-called 'flying-squirrel.'"
"It's a tough customer, whatever it is, and I hope that it is the last of its kind. Do you know that we have no more water?"
"I shall examine the contents of the stomach, and I fully expect to find that its usual prey is the monkey."
"It had a great hankering for white man, at any rate. Did you hear me say there was no water?"
"Its hind legs are very much longer than the fore legs—another proof of an arboreal existence. It's a most important find. I wish Mr. Hume were here."
"So do I," said Compton, heartily, stirring the jackal with his foot.
That sagacious animal rose slowly, stretched itself, one leg at a time, sniffed at the dead leopard, or tree-lion, whatever it was, and then curled itself up again.
"Coo-ee—coo-ee!" came out of the woods.
"Coo-ee!" replied Compton, to the glad sound. "Coo-ee!" and he fired off his gun.
Muata's shrill whistle pierced through the files of trees, and the jackal slunk away.
"Hurrah!" yelled Compton, taking off his cap. "Hurrah! Here we are— all safe!"
"All safe, thank God;" and Mr. Hume hurried forward, with his eyes beaming. "Thank God."
"It is as I thought. Here is the hind leg of a monkey, with some of the hair still attached;" and Venning held up a disgusting-looking object.
Mr. Hume looked at the dead animal, the broken hut, and back at
Compton.
"We shot it last night, and its mate in the afternoon."
Then he pulled Venning to his feet and shook him. "Believe he's gone off his head."
"I've not," said Venning; and he held out a blood-stained hand to Mr. Hume, who took it with a great happy laugh. "Have you seen a beast like that before, Muata?"
"Any one would think," said Compton, "that nothing had happened— that we had not been lost, and that he had not brought us into this mess."
"Steady," said Mr. Hume, with a smile.
"Dick is right, sir. If it had not been for him, I should have been dead. I am a little bit excited now; but I will tell you all soon. Well, Muata?"
"Wow!" exclaimed the chief, who had been talking with the river-man. "One of these I have seen, and he also. It was a great thing to kill two; of all things that walk they are the fiercest."
"And I am very thirsty," said Compton.
"Their home is in the trees," continued Muata.
Venning nodded. "Leo arboriensis."
"Venningii," added Compton, as he took his lips from a water-bottle.
"And now we'll have breakfast, if you don't mind."
CHAPTER XIV
THE OVERHEAD PATH
"We were stopped by ants," said Mr. Hume, in explanation.
"By ants!"
"No less. I missed you not long after we had started, and passed the word on to the others to turn back. And in the mean time an army of marching ants had cut the line of communications.
"Couldn't you sweep them aside, or jump over?"
"I did not venture to try, my boy. I did try climbing across from tree to tree, but their skirmishers were everywhere. As for jumping across, I took the chiefs word for it, that the feat was impossible. Once that kind of ant gets a grip, he does not let go, except with the morsel he has fastened on to. And there were millions!"
"I can hardly imagine you were stopped by ants," said Compton.
"The ground before us was alive as far as we could see, and red. It was like standing on the bank of a river, and the myriads went on through the day until dusk. I have seen swarms of locusts on the march in the voetganger stage, and a large swarm will cover a length of three miles, but never would I have believed so many living things could gather together."
Compton laughed again. "Held up by an army of ants! I can't get the idea."
Mr. Hume rolled back his sleeves, and there were red marks from wrist to shoulder.
"And that was done only by the scouts on the tree I attempted to climb. Muata says they have put whole villages to flight."
"Eweh," said the chief, "and even the elephant will turn from their path, else would they get into his ears, his trunk, and to the soft parts between his legs, biting each a little piece of skin. They fear nothing. Death to them is nothing. I have seen them stop a fire by the numbers of dead they heaped upon it in their march."
"So we had to wait, and it was not a pleasant time for me. But, thank goodness, you are safe—aye, and safe, thanks to your own pluck."
"Dick did it all," said Venning. "I seemed to get dizzy all at once."
"I am not surprised," said Mr. Hume, looking grave; "and I think we ought to go back. The air is too heavy."
"After a good sleep I shall feel better," said Venning.
"It would be too bad to turn back."
"It would be too bad if you fell ill."
"What do you say, Muata?"
Muata lifted his hand. "Those who would cross the forest must be of the forest. Who are the people of the forest? Not those who live in the plains. Even the river-people are afraid to go far in. What are the creatures of the forest? They are those born among the trees, and those who dwell in the open seldom enter into the darkness and the quiet of the wood."
"Yet," said Compton, "there are people of the forest, and animals also, and they live." "For them are the trees."
"But when they go about they must travel under the trees."
"That is your word," said the chief. "But it must be so."
"Muata is right," said Mr. Hume. "We have only entered the fringe, and already we are different people. The lungs cry for pure air."
"Yet there is a way," said Muata; and his eyes fell upon the tawny hide of the tree-lion. "How, chief?"
"On top of the trees, not under!" cried Venning, who had seen that the chief was working up to some point.
Muata spread out his fingers gravely. "Even so," he said. "There are paths on the tree-tops known to the little people, and made by them. Maybe they will let us travel also by them."
The others stared at the chief in amazement; and even Venning, in spite of his intelligent anticipation, was too surprised to speak.
"There you can look upon the sky; there the wind blows fresh."
They looked up at the roof of branches, and then around into the sombre aisles.
"And where are the little people?" Muata smiled. "Who knows? They come like shadows, and like shadows they go. Even now they may be near watching to see if we are friends or enemies."
"You would not tell us an idle tale, chief. Let us hear what is in your mind."
"Stay here, my friends, while I seek the little men. Maybe, if I find them, they will put us on our way; but if I fail, then my word is that you go back to the river, lest the sickness of the woods come upon you."
"We will wait; but I have seen no signs of the little men. They may be far and difficult to find."
"They have watched us all the way," said Muata, calmly; "and it was in my heart that they had fallen upon the young chiefs in the night."
"Glad we didn't know," said Compton, thoughtfully.
Muata went off on his self-appointed task, and the white men felt, as they saw him disappear, how impossible it was for them to cope with the mystery of the forest. They were even more helpless than castaways at sea without a compass; for at sea in the day there is the clear sweep to the horizon miles away, while in the forest all they could be certain of was a little circle with a radius of less than fifty yards. Beyond that was the unknown, because unseen—a vague blur of trees that might be sheltering wild animals or savage men. And what made their helplessness the more felt, was the knowledge that Muata knew so much, and that others—the mysterious pigmies—knew still more. If there had been open glades, stretches of greensward, rippling brooks, or even a hard clean carpet such as is found under a pine forest, they would have been undismayed; but this gloomy, shrouded fastness, without glimpse of sunbeams, was becoming a nightmare.
Yet it would never do to become a prey to depression, for there is no danger so fatal to the explorer as low spirits, the forerunner of sickness.
By common consent they fought against a strong fit of the blues. Mr. Hume and Compton held a consultation over Venning, examined him, doctored him, and put him through the ordeal of a Turkish bath roughly made with the aid of the oil-sheets. After that he was rolled up in blankets and left to slumber. Compton was next treated in the same way, and then Mr. Hume busied himself with his note- book.
When the boys woke up in the afternoon, much refreshed, Muata had returned.
"Fall in, lads."
"Has he found them?" and the boys were up and glancing round for the pigmies.
"Yes; we are to go 'upstairs' at once."
"But where are they?"
"The little people have gone on," said Muata. "They will spy out on the man-eaters."
"You really did find them?"
"Ow aye; they know Muata. They and I have been on the path before, else they would have fallen on the young chiefs in the night—for they saw. The killing of the fierce ones much rejoiced them. It opened their lips about the upper way."
"We are ready," said Compton, "for the upper way—for the trapeze and the aerial flight."
Muata struck off into the woods, and the rest crowded on him, glancing up at every tree for signs of the new track.
"Behold the road," said the chief, showing his white teeth in a rare smile, as he caught in his hand a trailing vine that swung clear from the neighbouring growth, and reached up forty feet or so to a thick branch.
"Are we to swarm up that?"
Muata nodded.
"And what will you do with the jackal?"
The chief turned a look of disgust at his bloated ally. "He will follow underneath;" and reaching up, tie went hand over hand, using his toes very much like fingers to help. Then he lowered a rope which he had coiled round his waist; and Mr. Hume, putting the loop under his arm, trusted his weight to the swaying vine. Venning and Compton followed, with the help of the rope, but the river-man declined. He preferred to travel on the firm ground with the jackal. From the branch the four passed to the fork of the tree and held on.
"I don't see any path," said Venning.
"Nothing in the shape of a foot-bridge that I can see; and it would not be quite safe to fall, would it?" replied Compton, as he glanced down.
Muata went on up into the topmost branches, and, when they followed him, they found a small platform of saplings lashed to the branches by vines, and from this vantage they looked out over a wonderful sea of leaves, reaching unbroken as far as eye could reach, with billows and hollows, patches of light and shade, and splashes of colour where red flowers gleamed. And it was good to see the domed sky, the white clouds racing low, with shadows moving swiftly over that sea of leaves; to see the flight of birds, and to hear the voices of living things.
The tree on which they stood was very tall, but there were others as tall, standing up like rocks out of the sea; and when they grew accustomed to the strange surroundings, they saw something peculiar in the shape of these tree islands. They were cleft through the centre, leaving a narrow passage, quite distinct to any one standing in line—as they were, for instance—with the domed head of a tall tree about three hundred yards away.
"That is our way," said Muata.
"But where is the foothold?"
Muata pointed to notches cut in a lateral branch, and walked to the end of it, steadying himself by holding to a guiding branch above; then passed over the slight intervening distance between the last notch and the next tree by swinging on a vine tendril, otherwise a "monkey-rope."
The others followed very gingerly, for the feat was like walking on a yard-arm, but each in turn reached the farther tree. After a little, as they went on, now walking, now swinging, they all were able to pick up the singular track by the notches, by the lay of the lateral branches, and by the absence of projecting twigs along the course. These had all been cut back, leaving a sort of tunnel, not easily discernible, however, because of its undulating character to accommodate itself to the varying height of the trees. They very soon found two obstacles in the way of easy progress, due to the small size of the engineers who had designed this extraordinary road. In the first place, the notches on the branches were too small; and in the next, the tunnel was too low for their height, so that they had to stoop; while it was also evident that the overland swing-bridges between the trees were too frail for their weight. They quickly, therefore, resorted to their Ghoorka knives and to the rope. Venning, being the lightest, crossed over first by the monkey vine-bridge, when he made the rope fast to his end. It was then secured at the other, enabling the heavy weights, Mr. Hume and the chief, to pass next, Compton bringing up the rear with the rope round his waist, to guard against a fall in case of accident. Naturally, their progress was at first very slow, though not so much slower than it would have been had they to force a way through the undergrowth below; and the river-man found his work cut out to keep pace underneath when at times he encountered dense thickets.
By the time they had covered the three hundred yards and reached the next platform, they were finding their "tree-legs."
They stopped a while to take their bearings, looking out on the same unbroken expanse of tree-tops, tossed up into all manner of inequalities, and then recommenced their acrobatic, performance, making for the next "station." With a few slips, a few scratches, and bruised shins, they kept on until they had covered about a mile, when the growing dusk warned them to form camp.
"We'd better go down below," said Mr. Hume.
"Not I," said Venning. "I had enough of down below last night; I'm going to sleep on deck, sir."
"Ditto," said Compton, emphatically; "and I don't see why we all should not camp out aloft. We could easily widen the platform, rig up the waterproof sheets as a tent, and haul up some mould to make a fireplace."
The idea was acted upon vigorously, the platform widened and strengthened, the roof pitched, the mould hauled up in a bag made out of one of the leopard skins, and the fire lit upon a foundation so made. They roosted high and secure, but they could not claim in the morning that they had passed a pleasant night, for the bed was hard, the space cramped, and each one dreamt he was falling off a tremendously high perch. Moreover, sound travelled more freely up above, and, in place of the brooding silence of the under-world, there were many strange noises up aloft, the most menacing being an occasional booming roar, which they recognized as the cry of the gorilla.
The morning was wet as usual, and heavy clouds trailed over the forest like a leaden mist on the sea. They crouched under the tent, listening to the drip, drip, drip, and filling their water-bottles from the tricklings. About ten the clouds lifted, and then the sun drove his arrows through until, almost in a twinkling, the great wet blanket rolled itself up and vanished swiftly into the horizon, leaving behind the sparkling of myriad raindrops on the leaves. Then for an hour the forest steamed, as the sun licked the drops off the roof and chased the moisture along the boughs. When the way was dried for them, they went on, going barefooted this time, for the better grip to be obtained.
Other creatures had waited for the drying of the leaves beside themselves, and whenever they passed the white-grey branches of a wild fig tree, they were treated to a scolding from green parrots on the feed, and heard frequently the clapping report of the wood- pigeons as they brought their wings together, and the harsh cry of the toucans. Oh yes, there was life and there was death.
Venning, going on ahead, saw below him in the fork of a tree the face of a monkey, with the eyes closed as if in sleep. He stopped to look, stooping his head, and his eyes caught a slight movement. Then he saw that the sleeping monkey was cradled in the coils of a python resting in the forks of the tree, its head raised a little, and its tail gripping a branch. The head of the monkey rested peacefully on one of the black and yellow coils, for death had come upon it swiftly.
"What do you look at?" asked Muata, bending forward.
"Shall I shoot?
"So," muttered the chief. "It is the silent hunter. Let him be; let him be, and pass on. No other looks at man as he looks. It is his kill; pass on."
They passed on, leaving the "silent hunter" with the monkey, that looked as if he slept, and silent and motionless he remained as each one paused to glance down, his dull, unwinking yellow eyes showing like coloured glass in the lifted head.
"Look well," said Muata, warningly; "where there is one, there will be another near. The silent ones hunt in couples."
"Would they attack men?"
"Ask the 'little' people."
"But they are no bigger than monkeys."
"There is the monkey bigger than man, and he, too, must give way to the silent hunter."
"What! Is the gorilla afraid of the python?"
"Between the ape and the serpent there is always war. See where you place your foot then, for you travel the monkey-path, and we go hand and foot like monkeys. Look well where you place your hand, for a straight branch may be the body of the silent hunter."
Venning went on with renewed caution, studying the branches above and below, for, lover as he was of all manner of live things, he had the common repugnance to the serpent-kind. But the trees were innocent of guile, and presently some other object claimed his absorbed attention, no less than an old man gorilla, who thrust his black head above a tree-top a little way off, and violently shook the branches. At the noise every one stopped and peered out.
"Look!" he shouted.
"By Jove, a gorilla!" cried Compton, from the rear.
The great head was thrust forward, with its low black forehead and blacker muzzle; then they saw the whites of the eyelids as the fierce creature swiftly raised and lowered its brows; then the gleam of the great tusks as the mouth opened to emit a tremendous roar. The branches cracked under its grip as it shook them again before disappearing. Mr. Hume unslung his rifle and planted himself firmly, for, from the sound, it seemed as if the great ape were coming straight for them. But the noise of its progress ceased, and, after a long wait, the march was resumed. They kept a very keen outlook, and at times stopped to listen, but apparently the gorilla had vanished. Yet many were the startled looks whenever the least sound broke on their ears, for the face of the great ape, suddenly thrust into view, was a terrifying object.
"Halloa!" said Venning, pulling up, "the path seems to end here. See, the branch is broken off; and there is no swing-bridge. Yet the track did go straight on, for you can see the old marks across there."
"Wow!" said Muata, as his dark eyes swiftly took in the details.
"If I climbed up that branch, I think I could get into the other tree, and you could then use the rope."
"What is it now?" asked Mr. Hume.
"They have cut the track," said the chief; "and it is as I thought, they have gone down from this tree to the ground, maybe to climb up further on."
"Why?"
"Maybe a man has fallen to the ground here—who can say; or the stinging ants have made a home. That tree beyond is taboo to the little people, and we also will go down here."
"What's the good?" said Venning, beginning to climb up.
"No, no," said Mr. Hume. "We must leave this to the chief;" and he turned to descend.
Venning, however, was standing well placed for a swing, and he let himself go, reaching out with his left hand for another hold, and gaining the other side easily. Compton, of course, followed, and the two stood examining the tree for sign of the path. The track certainly had gone through that tree, but there were no signs of recent passage, and moss had grown over the branches. They called down that they were going on, and, passing across several trees, found themselves once more cut off from the next tree, on which the well-beaten track once again ran on.
"Here's the place," they shouted, to guide the others; then looked about to see how they were to cross.
"We'll have to shin down," said Compton, "for there's no crossing here."
Venning sat down astride a branch with his back to the trunk.
"May as well rest awhile till they come up."
"That's a queer-looking branch underneath," said Compton, following suit, and dropping a piece of bark on a bough that had attracted his attention. "It's covered all over with little squares of velvet moss. See!"
"Suppose we lower our guns by the rope, then we can swarm down easily," replied Venning, who had seen too many branches to be interested; and passing the rope round the two rifles, he lowered them to the ground, letting the rope follow.
"I believe it's moving, or else I've got fever or something."
"What's moving?"
"That;" and Compton pointed down.
"By Jenkins!" muttered Venning; and the two knitted their brows as they peered down into the shadows, for the branch certainly was moving, and moving away as if it meant to part company with the trunk. Their glances ran along the branch outwards, and then their eyes suddenly dilated, and their bodies stiffened.
So they stood like images, their hands clasping a branch, their heads thrust forward, and their eyes staring. On the same level with their heads and about twelve feet off was the head of that moving "branch," square-nosed, wedge-shaped, with the line of the jaws running right round to the broad part under the eyes, and a black- forked tongue flickering through an opening beneath the nostrils, It was the fixed stare of the lidless eyes, and the rigid position of the grim head poised in mid air on a neck that began like the muscular wrist of an athlete, thickening to where it was anchored on a branch three feet away to the size of an athlete's leg. And while the head, with the three feet of neck remained rigid, the body was gliding out and up, finding an anchorage in the forks of the tree on a level with the head, in readiness for the attack.
With an effort they drew their eyes away from that cold glance that held them almost paralyzed and glanced down. Beyond, the light branches shook as the huge coils passed over them. Such coils! As they moved into the sunlight they saw the glitter of the scales and the ridges of the muscles, and the movement was like the movement of several serpents instead of one.
Venning looked again at the motionless head. "When it has gathered its length behind and above its head," he said slowly, "it will strike."
"And you dropped the guns!"
"No one can stare a snake out—no one," said Venning; and his eyes were fixed.
"How far can it strike?"
"It has no lids to its eyes. It just looks and looks. Compton!"
Compton took Venning by the arm and shook him. "Come on," he cried.
"What are we standing here for?"
But as he spoke his eyes went up involuntarily, and his pupils expanded.
"It's coming closer," he whispered.
"And its eyes are brighter." Venning shut his eyes, and gripped his companion.
They swayed, and just managed to save themselves from a headlong fall by grasping a branch. The shock restored them, and the next minute they had swung themselves up on to the branch, and from that to the next. It was done in an instant, but when they cast a breathless look down, they saw the unwinking eyes looking up at them from the very spot they had just left. The snake had a double coil round the branch that had supported them, while the huge body bridged the distance to the branches from which the blow had been delivered just a moment too late. As they looked, the hinder part of the body fell with a thud against the tree-trunk, and began to ripple up.
"Back," said Compton, "to the next tree."
They darted to the vine-bridge, swung over, then stopped to see if the snake would follow.
"The monkey-rope would never bear its weight," said Venning.
"Can you hear it? By Jove, I feel all of a jump. I felt as if I had to stand there and watch it come right up."
"Ugh!" said Compton. "It was awful. Get ready to run. I see it—over there—just opposite; it's going up—no, down. I say, it will chase us from underneath. Come on!"
Venning went a little lower, the better to see the ground.
"Hi! underneath, Mr. Hume! Muata! Hi! Coo-ee!"
"Halloa! What is it?"
"A snake! He's going down the next tree to this. Look out!"
"All right; but you will find it safer down here."
They were of that same opinion, and were down with a run, that took some of the bark off their shins, as well as off the trees.
"And where are your guns?"
"Dropped them," said Compton.
"I see. Dropped them first, and discovered your danger after."
"Rub it in, sir. We ought to have followed you; and we have had a fine fright. It's big enough to scare any one."
All the time, they had their eyes turned up on the watch for the slightest movement, but the tree was as quiet as if it had not harboured anything more dangerous than a caterpillar.
"Where's Muata and the other boy, sir?"
"Gone after a red bush-pig. I think I hear them breaking back."
They heard the hunting cry of the jackal, then a sound of crashing, and an animal, brick-red—a strange hue for the sombre shadows of the forest—darted into view, and seeing them, halted with snout lowered, and the bristling neck curving up grandly to the high shoulders. A moment it stood there facing them, defiant, its little eyes gleaming, its tusks showing white, and the foam dripping from its jaws. A moment, and then it sank to the ground, and was hidden under a writhing mound of coils. Swift as an arrow the python had swooped at the prey, fastened on the neck with its jaws, and then overwhelmed it by the avalanche of its enormous length. There followed a sickening crunch of bones, and next a wild cry from the jackal, repeated by Muata and the river-man.
Mr. Hume advanced with his Express ready, but Muata, running round, begged him not to fire.
"It is the father of the wood-spirits. He took the red pig instead of one of us."
"Not for the want of trying," said Venning. "He nearly had us both,
Muata."
"But he took the pig," said Muata. "It is his hunt, and it means well for us that he took the pig."
"It certainly does; but how are we to get our guns, if we don't shoot him?"
Muata placed his weapon on the ground and advanced. The python had completed its work so far. Two vast coils were round the crushed body of the boar; the head rested on the upmost coil, with the eyes fixed on the intruders, and the rest of the body reached away into the shadows.
Muata advanced with the palms of his hands open, and his eyes downcast, as if he were in the presence of some great chief. Yet he showed no fear, never faltered, but walked up to the guns, picked them up within a foot of the spot where the length of the serpent had formed a loop, and returned. The lidless eyes watched, but not a coil moved.
"It is well," said Muata, gravely, as he returned the rifles. "He means well by us."
"You would not have said that if you had been up the tree with us, and with him," grumbled Compton.
"The tree is taboo. I said it."
"Do you mean that he lives here? I should think he would starve."
"That would be your word, young great one. But, see, look at my father there. He is big, very big, very heavy, very old. He does not care to move far. Yet he is wise. So he has chosen his hunt; and he has chosen well."
"I cannot see it. The little people give him a wide berth, and a pig might come along once a year."
"Such is your wisdom, little great one. But, see, in the trees above there is a roadway, and on the ground below there are other paths for the things of the forest who neither fly nor climb. These trees lie in the way of such a road. On the ground, if you had looked you would have seen the spoor of the red pig and other things of the forest."
"By Jove, yes!" and the boys stared at the unfamiliar spoor of animals. "But why do they use this particular part of the forest?"
"That we shall see, for our way lies now along this ground-path. The little people have done their tracking. The man-eaters are near."
CHAPTER XV
FIGHT WITH A GORILLA
"The man-eaters," said Venning, blankly. "I had forgotten about them."
"And there is another thing you have forgotten," said Mr. Hume, sternly, "you and Compton. You have forgotten to obey orders. My orders were to descend from the tree. You both kept on, and by so doing ran a very great risk. Understand now, that you will do exactly what I wish."
Compton looked rebellious, and opened his lips.
"Not a word!" said the hunter, in a roar, with a hard look in his eyes, that gave a fierce expression to his face.
The two boys stared at him dumfounded.
"You understand?" he said.
"I do, sir," replied Compton, gravely; for, high-spirited as he was, he was in the wrong, and had the courage to admit it.
That night they saw the fires of the man-eaters, who had encamped on a knoll comparatively free from trees and entirely bare of underwood. Beyond the knoll was the gleam of water, and at the same time they heard the familiar trumpeting of the mosquito hosts, whose attentions they had been free from ever since they left the river. They anointed their faces and hands with an ointment that contained eucalyptus oil, while Muata and the river-man went off to scout. Then they stood in the shadow of a great tree and watched the weird scene in the thick of the forest. There were several fires, and about each squatted a ring of wild black men. Their skins glistened like ebony from the fat they had liberally rubbed in, and their teeth and eyes gleamed in the reflection of the fires. Their hair, fizzled out in mops, had the appearance of fantastic Scotch bonnets; but apparently all their vanity had been lavished on their heads, for of dress they wore nothing but anklets and a strip of hide round the waist. They talked unceasingly, cracking their fingers and making play with their hands, while all the time one or another of the different groups was on his feet, stamping the ground, swinging a club, and shouting at the top of his voice.
"Ah men," said Mr. Hume. "Not a woman or a boy among them."
"What have they done with their prisoners, if these are the same we are after?"
What, indeed! Their eyes searched the shadows at the foot of the knoll for trace of the unfortunate people who had been captured, but they could neither see nor hear anything.
"Ugh, the brutes!" muttered Venning, with a shudder, as he brought his rifle to the "ready."
Mr. Hume pressed the barrel down. "We'll have no night attack," he whispered. "At the first note of danger they'd scatter like shadows, when they would have the eyes and the ears of us. Well hear what Muata has to say, and then wait for the morning."
"There are thirty-six of them," muttered Compton. A bull crocodile roared from the water near at hand, and one of the black men imitated the cry, drawing a yell of wild laughter from his comrades. It was the wildest of scenes. The little circle of red fire threw into light against an impenetrable wall of black the trunks of a few trees, the trailing vines, and the forms of the savage men. That was the one bit of the world visible, a space on which appeared some of the lowest forms of the human race; but, though they could see not an inch beyond the furthest reflection of the fires, they knew how well the setting fitted the picture. It seemed only natural that in that gloomy wilderness of wood these savage types should prevail, for if man had to live there, he could only hold his own by a cunning and ferocity greater than the beasts possessed. Every item of the scene stamped itself on the minds of the boys as they stood for a long time watching the antics of the savages.
It was a relief when Muata made his presence known by a cricket-like chirrup.
"Are these the men we are after, chief?" asked Mr. Hume, when the two scouts silently crept up. "They are the same, but the trail is different." "Then they are already on another hunt, and have left the women and children they captured elsewhere? Is that so?"
"As you have seen, they are warriors only. Such of the women and children who yet live are hidden. These await the coming of the other wolves."
"Oh oh! Then there is to be a great war-party?" "A great killing! I went near, round by the riverside, where also there is a fire as a signal. I heard their talk. Others will join them in the night or the morning, and together they will go in the war-canoes."
"And who are they that are expected?"
"I said we had not done with the thief-of-the-wood and the river, the man-robber, the slayer of babes."
"Hassan! Do you mean that the Arabs are coming?"
"Even so, O great one. They are well matched, the man-eaters and the man-stealers."
"And whom do they go against?"